Christmas Message
by Don't Trust the Snake
Summary: While Hermione is moping in the library at Christmas, she recieves a somewhat unexpected visitor... Sequel to "Valentines," but can be read by itself.


**Well… this is the sequel to my fanfiction "****Valentines.****" And I wasn't going to continue the story, but I had some reviewers who thought that I should. So I did.**

**And I do realize that this is a Christmas fanfic, and that it is most definitely NOT Christmas, but when I wrote it, it **_**was **_**Christmas. I just kind of… forgot about it. Then I found it, so I decided I would get it up, so that I wouldn't forget about it **_**again.**_** Anyhow. Here you go.**

Hermione sat in the library moping.

Generally she was far too controlled to allow herself to sulk like this, and she would always find something to do with herself, like boss Harry and Ron around, or patrol the corridors and give students detentions for doing whatever it was that they were doing that she decided she didn't like.

But with Harry and Ron and practically all the other students gone for the holidays, Hermione found herself alone in the library on Christmas morning, wishing that she had accepted the invitation to spend Christmas at the Burrow instead of pleading that she needed to study.

Because now she was moping shamelessly, knowing that there was no one to cheer her up.

_I probably could have got my studying done at the Burrow,_ Hermione thought grumpily. _Even if Ron would never have stopped bothering me._ She sighed, looking gloomily out the window, thinking, _Almost anything would be better than this._

If she had really wanted to, she could have gone to see what the teachers were doing, but she heard that last year at their Christmas celebration, Snape had gotten drunk, and things had been a little hairy, so she didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

So she let out a long sigh and started reading _Hogwarts: A History_.

While she did love that book, as she started it once more, she figured out that even that could get old after twelfth time around.

With a groan, Hermione dropped her head to the desk.

After five minutes, she decided that this wasn't doing anything for her beyond making her more depressed, so she lifted her head and blearily stared at the words in front of her. She read about a page, but didn't register a single thing that she read, even though she practically had the book memorized.

She groaned again, then bit her lip. There _was _something she could do, but…She cocked her head slightly, looking to see if anyone was around. After assuring herself that no one was, she pulled a small stack of envelopes out of her robes, opening them one by one.

The first simply said, _Have a rotten Valentine's, Granger._

The second was slightly longer, with the message, _When I first laid my eyes on you, I knew that a pure and undiluted hate would exist between us. I felt it so strongly the first time you gazed into my eyes and I feel it now, as I write this. Please know that I will always hate you, and nothing you do will ever change that._

The third envelope was covered in green and silver designs, and her full name was written on it in a flowing script. The simple message read, _Always and forever in hate._

Fourth was the notation, _Your eyes are unlike any other; no other gaze can cause me to shudder in revulsion like yours can. Truly, you are a stain on this great school._

The fifth message consisted of a small drawing—in green and silver ink—of two hearts, one beautifully shaped, with designs inside it, the other sagging and uneven. Two arrows pointed at the hearts, with the words _This is me,_ above the perfect heart, and the words, _This is you,_ next to the other heart. The bottom of the paper said, _Not looking so great, are you, Granger?_

The sixth and most recent of the Valentines was a poem, badly, if beautifully, written. At the bottom right-hand corner of all the notes, written in that flowing script, were the initials "D.M."

As she read each note, Hermione's smile became wider and wider, until she was practically beaming at the paper in her hand. When all else failed, these six pieces of paper could lift her spirits, odd at that may have seemed. She hadn't told anyone about them, especially not Harry and Ron, because they would have been horrified, but this was one secret she didn't mind keeping to herself.

"Enjoying yourself?"

The unexpected voice caused Hermione to let out a squawk of surprise, immediately slamming her hands down on the carefully laid out papers and envelopes, whisking them off the table and into her lap, out of view.

It was too late though, because the young man leaning against one of the bookshelves, smirking at her, undoubtedly knew _exactly _what it was she had been looking at.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded, desperately trying to fight down the flush on her cheeks. "I thought you would have been home for the holidays."

The blond teen shrugged languidly. "I thought the same of you. I'm surprised that you're still here, instead of off with those two dullards you call friends, Potter and Weasley." He shrugged again. "I am not, however surprised to find you here in the library, when you could be off doing something else." He sighed overdramatically and said, "Only you, Granger, could be so dull."

"Well," Hermione said, working to regain a calm disdain, "if I'm the only one "dull" enough to be here, what are you doing here?"

The Slytherin put a hand over his heart, mock injury on his face. "Why, Granger! It's as if you don't want me here!"

Hermione was fully recovered from her shock, however, and she only raised an eyebrow and said dryly, "Believe me, Malfoy, even if I never saw you again, the disgust you manage to make me feel for you would never fade. If you would excuse me, I have more important things to do than watch you preen over yourself." Turning back to her book, still open on the table before her, Hermione focused on the words, curious as to what his response would be.

There was silence for long enough that she thought he had left, leaving her alone with her book, but then two pale hands slammed down on the book in front of her, making her jump and let out a yelp, which in turn caused the papers on her lap to fall to the floor, a disarray of white paper and silver and green ink.

Furious, Hermione looked up into the grey eyes of her current annoyance and demanded, "What are you _doing_, Malfoy?"

That seemingly ever-present smirk was on his face as he said, "Well, Granger, I was thinking a few months ago—about how much I hate you, of course—and I came to the conclusion that I should inform you of that fact more than once a year."

"Wonderful," Hermione said as sarcastically as she could, though she had to admit that his close proximity was doing strange things to her thought process. "I can't wait, but in the meantime, could you please remove your offensive appendages from off my book?" When Malfoy made no reply, Hermione added, "If you don't move, you're going to find yourself in a very awkward position very soon."

Rolling his eyes, the blond Slytherin replied, "I'm already in an awkward position, Granger, thank you very much. But if you could stop contaminating the world with your speech for a small moment, perhaps I'll be able to deliver my message and leave you to your dusty books."

Hermione folded her arms, looking at him with a flat gaze, trying to stay impassive with him leaning over her. "Well, then?"

Malfoy leaned even closer, his eyes sparkling as he said in a serious, sincere voice, "Hermione Granger, I have hated you from the moment that I first laid eyes on you. I hate you with a passion that cannot be defied or quelled, nor perhaps even understood. This is a hate which will be able to endure all storms and troubles, never shaken in its surety." He was even closer to her now, their faces barely a foot away from each other.

"Granger…"

"Yes?" Hermione managed to squeak out, her hands fisted in the materiel of her robes.

He was close enough to kiss her, and Hermione thought he actually might. Her eyes involuntarily fluttered shut, as if she had no control over them as he leaned closer and closer…

_**THWAAK!**_

"OUCH!" Hermione exclaimed, clapping a hand to her forehead where Malfoy—that rotten, foul git!—had flicked her in the forehead. Hard.

The Slytherin boy was laughing hysterically, almost doubled as Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed. She _hadn't _seen that one coming.

After at least a minute of laughing, Malfoy briefly gained control of himself, but when he looked up at Hermione's red face, his control evaporated, and he began laughing again, tears streaming down his face as he howled with glee.

Hermione didn't even know what to say, and that was an incredibly rare occurrence.

Finally, she was able to sputter out, "Wh-what- I- what- I- _you vile little monster_!"

It was some time before the Slytherin was able to reply. When he finally did, he was striving to retain his cool and aloof exterior, but that was largely ruined by the tears of mirth that were still running down his cheeks.

"Well, Granger," he said, running a hand through his hair as he tried to stop himself from grinning, "At least we both know where _you_ stand now."

Hermione felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Malfoy, very nearly recovered from his outburst of laughter, only winked at her, saying, "Maybe next time, Granger. Maybe next time."

And with that, he left her.

_What an idiot! _Hermione fumed, as she bent to pick up the scattered papers on the floor.

But when her eyes fell on those two beautiful initials that adorned the papers, she couldn't stop a smile from spreading over her face.

Okay! So there you are, all you wonderful and awesome reviewers who seemed to want a continuation. Sorry, it probably wasn't as good as the first one, but it is what came out, so there you are.


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